


You know nothing, John Silver

by ElDiablito_SF



Series: SF Verse [4]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Flint hates everything, M/M, Miranda is the best, Wedding Planning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-22 03:04:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11371275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElDiablito_SF/pseuds/ElDiablito_SF
Summary: Maxanor take over Silverflint's wedding plans and it all goes to pot (quite literally, in my case).





	You know nothing, John Silver

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ellel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellel/gifts).



> The first of two installments I promised Elle. I promise the next part will actually have sex in it. ;)
> 
> P.S. Because I started this verse before s4, Thomas is still dead :( This is a trigger warning for that.

“Well, I like the burgundy calla lilies,” Eleanor was saying, waving a mock bouquet militantly in front of Max’s face. “They’re classy and regal!”

“They have tiny cocks!” Max protested, tearing the plastic flowers out of her hand. “Why not just go with roses?”

“Yeah, but Flint and your brother _are_ cocks! And roses are boring!”

“ _Jacques_!” both women hollered, turning towards a freak in tiny tinted spectacles who had been busy showing Flint panel after panel of his most beautifully designed canopies. “Help us decide on the flowers!”

How the fuck was this even Flint’s life? 

***

Muni was always to blame, Flint realized. Nine out of ten times if you asked a San Franciscan why a thing occurred, the answer somehow came down to Muni. He had found Silver sitting on the front steps of his house, foot tapping to some unknown rhythm that he must’ve had pouring in through his earbuds.

“Am I late?” Flint asked, pulling out his keys and offering Silver his hand to pull him back up to his feet.

“No, I’m early. Muni was on time for once, if you can believe it.”

“Fuck, John, you shouldn’t have to sit on my threshold like this,” Flint muttered, dropping his keys, then fumbling with them as they refused to go into the lock. 

“It’s no big deal. I hadn't been waiting for you longer than twenty minutes.” Silver placed a kiss upon the nape of Flint’s neck, somehow making him feel all the more guilty in the process. “Why? Are you worried the neighbors might see me and get the right idea?” he winked, following Flint in and tossing his messenger bag onto the couch.

“I just hate the thought of you hanging out there like that, like some stray. I’ll just give you my spare key, okay?” Flint didn’t stick around long enough to see Silver’s jaw drop as he headed into the kitchen. “Let me at least make you dinner.”

“Mmmm, thank you, daddy,” Silver nuzzled into the side of Flint’s neck, eyes glowing with a mischievous flame that had become so endearing and familiar. “Although you really don’t have to feed me. I like you very much even without the free food.”

Flint laughed, turning them both so that his hips were pinning Silver against the granite counter of the kitchen island. He let his fingers scoop up the back of Silver’s skull, cascades of curls spilling over his hands and forearms, and he took his time kissing Silver properly, the way he had been thinking about doing most of the day while he boiled alive in his innumerable meetings. Someone was going to get billed later for all his wandering fantasies.

Summer was coming to a head. In another day it would be July. And then September was a stone’s throw away, and with it would be an entirely new beginning for Silver. Flint had lost track of time, so caught up was he in the novelty of his romance, he somehow failed to notice that he had been in an actual relationship. Silver would be starting law school in the fall; Silver was still there. In his life, in his bed, in his arms.

Birdsong had announced morning. They lay in bed, arms lazily tracing over each other’s skin. Effortlessly, Silver had managed to fit himself to Flint, like his ergonomic pillow and tempurpedic mattress. Silver too had been built to adapt to his contours.

“So, listen,” Flint found himself whispering against Silver’s lips. “About the key to my house… I was thinking…”

“Mmm?” Silver’s forehead pressed against his, stray curls tickling Flint’s eyelids and nose.

“You know you might as well move in. Once law school starts, you won't have much time to come out here. And I'd like to see you at least at night before we go to sleep and in the morning when we wake up.” 

Silver simply blinked up at him, his eyes two bottomless whirlpools. “Are you sure? You didn’t even want to tell people we were an item last weekend.”

“That’s not true. I… I’m…” Flint laughed, mostly at his own ridiculousness. “Life’s too short and I’m far too ancient, as you like to remind me.”

“That’s true,” Silver purred and leaned in for a soft kiss.

“And I want to take care of you. If you let me. I’d like to…”

“James…”

“... marry you, I guess. That’s what I’m trying to say. If that’s something that kids still do these days…”

He stopped speaking because Silver blinked and two large tears streaked down his cheeks. And then Flint was kissing him, catching those tears on his tongue, wrapping his arms around Silver so tight that an entire construction crew would not have been able to ply him away.

“I love you, John,” he whispered in between soft kisses, tracing the wet trails of Silver’s tears away with his thumbs.

Silver did not say yes, but he arrived at Flint’s house the next evening with a small backpack and a large suitcase.

“This is all I have,” he said.

“Not anymore,” Flint replied.

***

But this did not leave a lot of time to plan a wedding and a honeymoon. After all, Flint still intended on whisking Silver away to Italy before the start of the new term. Which would have all been fine, had people simply let him do as he pleased. And what pleased him would have been a quiet City Hall affair, just the two of them and a witness. But no - _lesbians_ had to take over!

Well, technically a lesbian and a bisexual. But boy, what a formidable team they’d made!

“You are absolutely not having a City Hall wedding,” Eleanor declared. “Even if this means I’m planning the whole thing myself!” 

Except that had not been the end of Flint’s nightmare. Eleanor had no intention of planning the entire wedding herself; she had intended to hire the most _fabulous_ wedding planner in town. That joker by the name of Jacques Rakeham (honestly, who was he even kidding with that nom de guerre!).

“You don’t understand anything,” Eleanor insisted. “Jacques is a fucking design maven!”

“Jack is a putz!”

“His name is Jacques and you are an embarrassment to gay-kind if you do not appreciate his sense of aesthetics! John, help me!”

“I kinda want a chuppah?” Silver shrugged, unhelpfully.

“A what now?” Eleanor narrowed her eyes in distrust.

“A chuppah,” Flint repeated. “It is a traditional wedding canopy used in Jewish weddings. I did not know you were Jewish, babe,” he turned towards Silver.

“Did you think my last name just happened in a vacuum?” Silver pushed his curls behind his ears, which only made Flint temporarily lose his train of thought. Hipster ears were the most adorable.

“Goyim,” Max shook her head in a display of disappointment from the windowsill where she was quietly smoking a joint.

“I guess I didn’t really think anything,” Flint admitted, biting his lower lip.

“Do you even know each other?” Eleanor sighed, hands on her hips. “Have you actually spoken at all during your entire… courtship?”

“Oh god, he’s just marrying you because you’re hot,” Max mewled from her perch unhelpfully.

“And what? You moved in with Eleanor for her brain?” Flint barked back.

“RUDE!” All three of them intoned.

“I’m grossly outnumbered,” Flint whined. “I can’t wait for Miranda to get here. That way it will at least be three to two.”

“Or four to one,” Eleanor pointed out.

“Wait,” Silver bounced joyfully. “Miranda is coming for the wedding? I get to meet an actual friend of yours? You _do_ have friends, you ogre!”

“You know nothing, John Silver. She’s my former partner. So there - I told you I only have partners and enemies.”

“Did you just make a pop culture reference?” Silver’s eyebrow quirked up.

“Did I?” Flint asked, utterly bewildered.

“My god, you truly are a dinosaur,” Silver laughed, wrapping his arms around Flint’s neck. “You’re so lucky that I love you.”

Flint grinned against his lips. “That I am.”

***

Miranda knew something was up when James had called her at a reasonable hour on the anniversary of Thomas’ death, stone sober and disturbingly lucid. 

“You’re seeing someone new, aren’t you?” she had asked.

“It’s nothing… a passing fancy,” he had told her back then.

“What’s this passing fancy’s name?”

“Who cares? ...John.”

“Well, if you’re this charming when you’re with him, I’m sure it will pass sooner rather than later.” Miranda was not the scolding type, yet James couldn't help but feel chagrined beneath the weight of her judgement. “James? Are you still there?” He was. “You know you are allowed to be happy again, right?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

She had tried very hard not to gloat when he called her again three months later to tell her he and John were getting married in August and that he very much wanted her there to “give him away.”

***

Flint was not looking at Miranda with every fibre of his being as they drove from SFO and into the black fog hanging over Daly City. Nevertheless, he could feel both her big, brown eyes boring a hole in the side of his head.

“Stop smiling,” he groused.

“You’re in love!”

“Of course I’m in bloody love. I’m getting married, aren’t I?”

“I can’t wait to meet him,” Miranda beamed so brightly that Flint did not even need to turn his head to see it.

“Well, you don’t have to wait long,” he replied, doing a terrible job suppressing his own smile.

Ten minutes later, they were pulling into Flint’s driveway, and Silver was coming out of the house to help Miranda with her bags, much to Flint’s bewilderment.

“What? I wasn’t raised by wolves. Well, not after my adoption anyways…” Silver turned his face up to be kissed by Flint, who did not give the smallest shit that Miranda was standing there, judging him through her eyebrow-obscuring Prada sunglasses. 

“I had no idea your generation knew about politeness or chivalry,” Flint threw casually over his shoulder, letting Silver handle the bags while he handled Miranda, maneuvering her through the front door. “Stop ogling him, he’s mine,” he whispered into her ear.

“Oh my lord, James, he’s _adorable_ ,” she whispered back. 

“Miranda,” Silver extended his hand, having deposited Miranda’s luggage in the guest bedroom. “I’ve heard so much about you! It’s an honor to meet the only other person in the world who tolerates James, other than myself and Eleanor.”

“You must be John,” she smiled, clasping Silver’s extended hand. “I’m so happy to finally be meeting you. James, of course, never even told me how the two of you met.”

“Give it time,” Flint grumbled, “you just got here.”

“It’s actually a very romantic story,” Silver gleefully swooped Miranda up by the elbow. “We got stuck in an elevator together and I offered to do some pro boner work for him.” He winked at Flint who immediately needed to sit down.

“I can’t imagine why I hesitate to introduce him to people,” Flint threw aside.

“Moscow Mule?” Silver, being a solicitous host, asked Miranda, who stood ready to burst at the seams from laugher. Mostly at Flint’s expense.

“Oh you _are_ charming, John,” she finally giggled. “I imagined you had to be in order to drag that one kicking and screaming back into the light.”

“You’re too kind, Miranda,” Silver grinned, mixing the drink in the cupper cup for her. “It’s true though, he doesn’t like me to meet anyone. He keeps me locked up here in West Portal like Rapunzel in the tower.”

“That’s not true! Don’t believe a word that one says!” Flint protested from the living room.

"Are you afraid people are going to think I'm just marrying you for your money? I hate to break it to you, but you don't have enough money to buy _this_ fine ass," Silver shouted back from the kitchen.

Miranda sipped her Moscow Mule with the look of a woman at the theater. "Well, this house is worth two and a half million dollars on Zillow." 

Flint bristled. "You looked it up?"

"I like to make it my business to know your business, darling."

Silver laughed and took a sip of his own beverage. “Once a business partner, always a business partner, huh?”

“I like to make sure James is making sound investments,” Miranda smiled.

“Oh, that’s not a loaded statement,” Silver uttered with a soft blush.

“Miranda, you must be exhausted after your flight,” Flint interjected, rising from the couch.

“I’m fine,” she smiled at him calmly. “We only have a few days left until the wedding. I’d like to spend as much time with you two lovebirds as possible. Sleep is for the weak.”

“Can I marry you instead?” Silver asked and, once again, Flint found himself to be woefully outnumbered.

***

“He’s adorable!” Miranda was cooing into Flint’s ear, lying together in the hammock strung up in his backyard, an alpaca wool blanket flung over them to keep away the chilly night air. “You don’t deserve him!”

“I know I don’t,” Flint responded seriously. 

Somewhere inside their house, Silver was pretending to sleep. Flint knew because John never went to bed before midnight and it was barely even ten o’clock.

“I’m joking, you daftie,” Miranda said with a sharp punch to Flint’s arm. “You deserve to be happy. He makes you happy. And you clearly make him happy, too.”

“He’s _hot_ , Miranda!” Flint whispered into her hair. “And so young and full of life… I just… I never really thought it would stick. That he’d want me. You and I know how ephemeral life is, how quickly it can all fall apart, and I… I can’t keep living in fear of it all falling apart.”

“So don’t,” she said softly, taking his hand in hers. “You want to fuck each other’s brains out. Relationships have been based on less.” She giggled softly into Flint’s shoulder.

“I love him,” Flint confessed into the night sky.

“I know, darling.”

They lay in comfortable silence for a few more minutes, watching overcast summer skies and reveling in the shared heat of the blanket.

“We’re getting bloody _vegan_ cake for the wedding, you know,” Flint finally could contain himself no longer. “What is even vegan cake? It’s probably made of Soylent Green.”

“It’s just almond milk, darling,” Miranda tittered against his shoulder. “For the love of god, do not let John hear you talking this way.”

“He’s going to wear a skinny tie to our wedding. I know he is.”

“Oh, how you must suffer.”

Back in their bedroom, Silver was softly lulled to sleep by the sporadic sounds of Miranda’s oddly melodic laughter punctuated by Flint’s stream of disgruntled muttering.

***

Flint’s hands were sweating so much, he was hesitant to adjust his tie for fear of leaving hand prints all over his pristine shirt and collar. Instead, he was about to nervously run his hands through his hair, when Miranda grabbed him by both wrists.

“You’ll mess it up right before the ceremony, James! Think of the photos!”

“What do I care about the bloody photos?” he snapped. “I’m wearing a skinny tie! They talked me into wearing a bloody skinny tie! To my own wedding!”

“Aww.” Miranda took Flint’s face into both her hands and placed a kiss on the tip of his nose. “You’re so in love, James, my own heart is full of fucking rainbows.”

“This is ridiculous: look at me!” Flint panicked. “This isn’t me! I don’t even know most of the people out there - they’re Eleanor and Max’s friends!”

“You know Mr. Gates and that boy with the nice arms from your building,” Miranda laughed. 

“Having a beer with a man once in a while doesn’t actually make you friends, Miranda.”

“I believe that is exactly what the heterosexuals consider friendship,” she shrugged, fixing Flint’s collar nonchalantly.

The door to the dressing room flew upon open with a sudden bang and Silver stormed in, as if pursued by the Furies.

“What the fuck!” he exclaimed, rushing to Flint’s side and throwing his arms around him, burying his face in his neck. “Your pal Billy brought that fireman as a date to our wedding!” Silver proclaimed with dramatic flare. “You know the guy? Who busted open the elevator the day we met?”

Flint scrunched up his face. “Charles Vane? Please tell me he’s wearing a shirt!”

“You know Eleanor and he were a thing!” Silver continued, obviously distraught. “I don’t need our wedding to be obscured by this kind of drama!”

“Do you want me to kill him?” Flint asked, gently brushing Silver’s hair away from his face.

“Maybe?” Silver shrugged.

“What’s really going on with you, babe?” Flint laughed softly. “You know you’re not supposed to see me in my wedding dress before the ceremony.”

“There are so many people out there,” Silver pointed towards the domed cupola outside. “What the hell are we even doing here? A wedding at the Palace of Fine Arts? What’s more mainstream!”

“You know this wasn’t my idea. Take it up with your sister and her Sapphic paramour.” Flint nervously adjusted his cufflinks. Twin “J”s: a gift from Miranda.

“You don’t really want to be here either, do you?” Silver’s eyebrows knitted together as he held his breath.

“Here? With you? Of course I do.”

“No, I mean, this whole thing. You hate it. The flowers, the canopy, _the tie_. Jacques Rakeham!”

“Jacques _is_ a bit much,” Flint admitted.

“You’re just doing this for me, aren’t you?”

“Well… I thought you wanted a chuppah?”

“I don’t care about the chuppah!” Silver threw his hands up. “I just wanna be fucking married to you!”

Flint pulled Silver in for a breathless kiss.

“I don’t want to be here,” Flint breathed out against Silver’s lips. “You know how much I hate people.”

“I _do_ know!” Silver nodded enthusiastically. “And flowers! I know you’re not very fond of flowers either.”

“Fucking filthy allergens,” Flint nodded equally enthusiastically. “Let’s get the fuck out of here?”

“But what about…” 

Silver was about to pull back, when Flint grabbed him by the hand and threw them both upon their knees in front of Miranda.

“Miranda, you must save us!” he supplicated from this ridiculous position. “You’re a judge! The marriage license is right there! Please, just fucking marry us right now so we can get the hell out of here and go to Italy!”

“All right, you lunatics! But we need a witness,” Miranda pointed out. 

“Just grab that hobo with the cat.”

“Randall?” Silver sounded scandalized. “He's not a hobo! He works here.”

“Who cares?” James all but shouted. “Can he sign his name?”

***

“Where the fuck is your partner?” Max hissed at Eleanor.

“Where the fuck is your brother?” Eleanor hissed back.

“Look chill,” Max whispered, taking her by the arm and leading them both off to the water’s edge. “What are you saying? Are you saying we lost them?”

Eleanor cast a look around the filled up chairs under the dome at the Palace of Fine Arts. “Maybe they fucked off for a quickie?” she suggested nervously. “Maybe Flint really needed to get a different tie?”

“Ahem,” Miranda cleared her throat smartly as she approached them both. “Ladies, I have some news that I wanted to share with you privately first.”

“They eloped, didn’t they?” Max shook her head. “From their own fucking wedding! Who does this!”

“It would have been a beautiful wedding too,” Miranda continued. “The only problem is… it wasn’t quite planned for them, was it?”

“Are you saying this is our fault?” Eleanor frowned. “Oh god! This is totally our fault, Max. We never should have insisted they do all of this in the first place.”

“What the fuck are we gonna do?” Max began to play with her hair as her heels sank slowly into the soil in front of the pond. A pristine white swan swam slowly past, behind her.

“Fuck it,” Eleanor grabbed her hand. “Will you marry me, Max?”

“Right now?” Max gasped.

“I’m not letting our perfect fucking wedding go to waste because those two assholes refused to eat vegan cake!”

“Fuck the patriarchy,” Max concurred. “Let’s get married!”

“Mazel tov!” Miranda exclaimed in delight.


End file.
